


Q-uarantined

by Silverback14



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: A little angst, I been working on this for forever and no, M/M, Phantom of the Opera references, Picard is REPRESSED, Q has EmOtIOns, This is my quarantine au fic and yall can deal with it, You better believe this is a slowburn, it is still not done, piqard, qcard, quarantined, they are in love and they are awkward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverback14/pseuds/Silverback14
Summary: A massive plague brakes out on the Enterprise, and a human Q must learn to cope with this incredibly boring quarantine. How does he cope? By bothering his favorite starship captain, via comm.
Relationships: Jean-Luc Picard/Q
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. The Trashfire Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Everyone who covid has screwed over.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Everyone+who+covid+has+screwed+over.).



> Hello! I hope covid finds you well. I've been working on this since May, and it still has a long way to go. I hope you enjoy this and as always, please excuse any typos or errors. :)

Three months. Three months they had been stuck with Q. A normal omnipotent Q was bad enough as it was, but a powerless Q twice as bad. Ever since Q had landed stark naked onto the bridge during an emergency, Q had been nothing but a nuisance. For. Three. Months. Picard wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Usually Q showed up for a day or two, then left and stayed away for a year or so. Now he was there all the time! 

Picard let out a sigh and reached for the translucent cup of tea sitting to his right. Just a few more reports and he could be done. Well. Almost done. He still needed to talk to Q. The Captain almost got a headache just thinking about it. Taking a sip of the bitter liquid, Picard turned his head to the stars. ‘Why here?’ He wondered. Of all the places Q could’ve chosen, why would Q choose to come here?

“Because in all the universe, you are the closest thing I have to a friend Jean-luc.” The words came floating back to him in a hazy mist. That couldn’t be true. Could it? Well in any case that was a rather sad statement. Q thought him a friend? Something close anyway. Picard didn’t even like him. He didn’t hate him by any means of course. But. . . Well. . . Truth be told the withdrawn Captain was a little confused as to how he felt about Q. He found him a great annoyance, and knew that he was not to be trusted. Yet despite all that, when he looked deep inside himself, he found himself with the smallest, most begrudging feeling of. . .Something. . . for Q. He couldn’t quite put a name to the feeling. It certainly wasn’t respect. Maybe it was. . . responsibility? Yes, that must be it. He felt responsible for Q. Lord knows no one else would look after him.

Picard was distracted from his reports and his thoughts by a chime on the door to the ready room. “Come.” He answered, signalling the doors to slide open.

Much to his surprise in walked Dr. Beverly Crusher looking quite irritable. “Jean-luc we need to talk.”

“Of course. Have a seat Doctor.” Dr. Crusher quickly fell back into the offered chair. The Captain raised his eyebrows in surprise. It wasn’t often he saw the good doctor in such a state. “Is everything alright?”

“No,” she groaned, massaging her face with her hands. “I swear he’s in sickbay every other hour. I can’t take it anymore!”

A headache was forming like a thunderstorm in clear skies. “I take it you’re referring to the eternal nightmare that is Q?”

“That’s putting it lightly. He’s insufferable! Constantly coming in with some new ailment he’s discovered. On the rare occasion it is something that needs to be taken care of, it’s generally because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and finally got the beating that he had coming! And oh let me tell you Jean-luc, I’d like to give him a black eye or two!” Dr. Crusher let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I have to speak with Q tonight already. I’ll talk to him about leaving you alone unless necessary.” Picard filed away the complaint with the several others he was going to have to speak to Q about.

“My deepest sympathy.” She muttered. “He’s lucky that he hasn’t been thrown off the ship. You’re a much better person than I am Jean-luc. If it was me he’d have been dropped off on the nearest habitable place we could find.”

The Captain chuckled, “You’ve no idea how close it’s come to that. You have no clue how many times I’ve looked at an M class planet and said to myself: We could leave him there, it would be easy enough.” 

Dr. Crusher gave a weary smile before forcing herself to get out of her chair. She really was tired. Tired of Q, tired of work, just tired. “I ought to be getting back to sick bay. Thank you Captain.” 

He nodded and grabbed one of the padds to finish reports. “You’re welcome Doctor.” As he dove back into the monotonous report, the fading footsteps of Dr. Crusher seemed so distracting. 

After another hour with very little progress, Picard dropped the padd with sigh. He was getting absolutely nothing done except getting a headache. His mind felt as if his brain had been replaced with jelly fog. A mist seemed to be suffocating all his thoughts. He’d read the same paragraph at least six times and he still hadn’t retained any of it. Getting up to leave, Picard headed for the ready room door. ‘I can finish them tomorrow’ he thought to himself. A stone fell into his stomach as he remembered his day was not finished. He still had to talk to Q. Picard groaned. ‘I might as well get this over with’ he thought with discontent. 

Each step down the corridor seemed to be more energy draining than the last. Why was he doing this? This was more of Counselor Troi’s job wasn’t it? So why was he going to talk to Q? Even as he grumbled excuses in his head, Picard knew why he was the one to go talk to Q. It was because Q responded best to him. The only other person on board that Q might slightly pay attention to was Data, and well, sometimes it was best that Picard lay down the law with Q. With heavy feet Picard walked down the final corridor to Q’s quarters. It wasn’t often he came to this part of the ship, but with Q being there it seemed he was down there more and more often.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Picard worked up the willpower to make his presence known. He listened as the chime went off, and wondered if it wasn’t too late to make a run for it. ‘No Jean-luc.’ he chastised himself silently. ‘You’re not a ten year old boy. You are not leaving after knocking on someone’s door. You can do this. You can do this. You can-’ 

The door slid open, and sitting on a grey chair was Q. He looked tired as well. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and a large bruise lay on the side of his face. Q wearily looked over at Picard and gave a weak smile. Bouncing his leg nervously he greeted him. “Bonjour mon Capitaine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Picard looked around the room before sitting in the chair opposite to Q. It really was a boring looking room. Nothing like how he had imagined Q would have decorated. All greys and whites with very little color. Perhaps Q just hadn’t decided how he wanted to decorate yet.

Going back to the problem at hand Picard decided the best way to have this conversation was to be straightforward and get to the point. “Q, I’ve been getting a lot of complaints about your actions lately.” Q rolled his eyes but continued to pay attention. “And the news of your fight wasn't exactly-”

“It wasn’t a fight.”

Picard stopped a moment to stare at the ex-entity. “What?”

“It. Wasn’t. A. Fight.” Q’s eyes were turned to the floor. 

The Captain leaned back in his chair, surprised at Q’s words. “And how do you figure that Q?”

Q smirked at the ugly grey carpeting. “I do believe that in order to have a fight, two people must be beating one another. I didn’t lay a hand on him.”

“I supposed.” Picard said thoughtfully. “But you did instigate it. I believe you insulted his intelligence, and then went on to explain how lucky he was that he was even be aboard this vessel, and that you didn’t know how such an imbecile made it into starfleet, and then he hit you. And Q, I can honestly say that I really don’t blame him. It wasn’t right that he hit you, but you had it coming.” After a few moments of silence, Picard remembered his promise to Beverly. “You also need to stop going into sickbay for every little thing.”

Q just sat and stared disbelievingly at Picard. “How do you expect me to know what’s important and what’s normal? None of this is normal for me!”

“You could look up the symptoms before going to sickbay.” Picard suggested.

Q looked ready to tear his hair out. “That’s exactly what Dr. Crusher told me NOT to do!” 

Picard thought about the consequences of Q looking up symptoms and realized that it was probably best that Q follow Crusher’s advice. 

Picard’s silence began to annoy Q. Just who did Picard think he was? How did he have any idea what he was going through. Q’s eyes roamed the captain’s body, and he wondered if Picard had the same aches and pains he did. Did his back hurt when he stood up too fast? Did he feel tired no matter how much sleep he got? Did his head feel so mind numbingly empty and isolated that the darkness of space felt alive and welcoming compared to the loneliness that filled every waking moment of existence? 

Finally, no longer able to stand the crushing silence, Q snapped with his usual dripping sarcasm. “Is there anything else? Or have you decided to stare patronizingly at me until I turn into a saintly stiff-necked minion like everyone else around here?”

Snapping out of his momentary haze, Picard returned his attention to Q. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't refer to my crew like that."

"Sorry." Q rolled his eyes. 

Picard sighed and returned to the problem. "Q, if the discomfort doesn't go away after a few hours, talk to someone about it. If they say go to sickbay, go. If they say to wait, wait. If it doesn't go away after a day or two then go to sickbay. Alright?"

Q waved a hand at the captain. "Fine, fine, fine. Now is there anything else, or is that all? If you drag this out any longer you'll have to nag at me in bed." He moved his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. 

Picard scoffed at Q's antics. How crude. The idea of joining Q in bed. Just the idea was absurd! Why, he was feeling hot in the face from the very notion of being intimate with him. No. Silly indeed.

"No, I think we're done here Q." Picard rose out of the depressing grey chair. 

"Finally."

As Picard left Q's drab quarters, his mind was tied up with half a million different things and a fog of fatigue had settled in. So it was no surprise that he didn't see Reginald Barclay coming around the corner. The two collided shoulders leaving Barclay a stuttering mess. 

"I- I'm sorry S-S-Sir. I should've b-been looking w-w-where I've been g-going." Barclay had to take a break from his nervous apologies to let loose a nasty cough into his arm.

"It's fine Lieutenant. Are you feeling alright?" Picard took a step back from the obviously sick man. The last thing he needed was to catch a cold.

"No." Came the congested reply. Another cough occured. "I'm on my way to sickbay."

Picard gave an approving nod. "Get well soon Lieutenant Barclay." 

They parted ways. Picard to his quarters, and Barclay to sickbay. 

'Let's hope it's not too contagious.' Picard thought to himself.


	2. *Gasp* And They Were Quarantined!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the fun begins. >:)

The next day only a few hours into his shift Picard was called into sickbay. A feeling of dread curled into his stomach. What was wrong now? Did a crew member become seriously injured? Did they capture a potentially hostile organism and were now studying it? Was Q bothering Beverly again? 

The last thought sent a shiver down his spine. If that were the case, he better brace himself for all of hell to break loose.

As he walked in the door he realized all of his speculations had been far from the truth. Sickbay was covered in different dividers and separators. Some made of clear walls, others consisting of forcefields. Medical staff rushed from corner to corner wearing masks and gloves. Sitting glumly in a corner on an examining table was Barclay. He was surrounded on all sides by the aforementioned forcefields. 

"Captain!" Cried Dr. Crusher, gaining the attention of the overwhelmed captain. "Please stay just where you are!" Passing a padd to one of the nurses, Dr. Crusher frantically tried to organize the small workspace searching for whatever it was she needed. 

"Is everything all right Doctor?" Picard asked.

Still desperately searching for the specific padd hiding amongst the countless others, she huffed in reply: "To be honest, no, things are not alright." Holding up the proper padd in triumph, Crusher turned to face Picard. "We are currently dealing with a possible epidemic."

The words fell upon him like a bag of bricks. An epidemic? In this day and age? They'd find a cure, or a vaccine soon, surely.

"Just how serious is this epidemic?" 

"Serious. We can't seem to find any treatments, and any attempt to weaken the virus to make a vaccine has been unsuccessful. This disease, whatever it is, is incredibly contagious. Lieutenant Barclay came in last night and just this morning I've had twelve more cases." She paused a moment to take in a deep breath. "If we're not careful, we could be dealing with a ship-wide epidemic."

Picard nodded gravely in acknowledgement. "What is it you suggest?"

"Quarantine. I don't know for how long. There should most definitely be no contact between ships, and everyone who is at risk, or non essential should remain in their quarters at all cost." Looking down at her shoes she added: "This includes you as well. With your artificial heart I'm going to have to order you to stay in your quarters."

Picard was absolutely flabbergasted by this. He was the captain for crying out loud! "Surely you can't be serious?" He stammered.

"I'm afraid I am. I'm sorry Jean-luc, but I just can't risk your safety that way." She sighed. "It's bad enough I brought you down here to tell you all this." 

Picard rubbed his temples and took deep breaths. How on earth was he going to tell almost the entire ship that they needed to stay in their quarters? A crushing weight began to set itself on Picard's troubled brain.

"I'm going to let you alert all personnel with health risks of their situation and why they need to quarantine. I will send out a ship-wide alert, and inform Starfleet of our situation." Said Picard. 

"I'll do so right away, sir." Replied Dr. Crusher. "In the meantime you should go to your quarters. Commander Riker can take over the bridge."

Nodding as he turned to leave, Picard's feet fell on air rather than solid flooring. Everything felt so unreal. He tried to ground himself by focusing on simple sensations. The soft feeling of the undershirt of his uniform. The gentle whirring of the engines. Finally, when Picard felt like he was in solid ground, he let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding in.

Trying to remain in the moment, Picard lightly tapped his combadge; feeling the cold, smooth metal, and listening to the soft chirp it emitted in response.

"Picard to Commander Riker, you have the bridge. I will be in my quarters until further notice."

He could practically see the confusion on Will's face as he replied: "Is everything all right sir?"

"No," Picard sighed, "everything is not fine. I'll fill you in on the details soon. Picard out."

When Picard got to his quarters, he immediately went to the replicator and ordered his Earl grey tea. Sitting down on the couch, Picard began to reflect the events of the day. God, it was only early afternoon! Placing his tea on the table, and his head in his hands, Picard repeated the same thought over and over again.

'What the hell is going on?'


	3. Isolation Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self isolation begins and Q is unsure of what's happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it has been awhile. I have more written and it should be posted soon. Please excuse any mistakes and enjoy!

"What do you mean quarantine?!" Q's indignant cry rang through the halls. 

The two security officers rolled their eyes. They'd been given the chore of dealing with those who struggled to understand what was going on, and it seemed every deck had at least one person who fell into hysterics. 

"It means you have to stay in your quarters until further notice." Came the monotone reply. This was really getting old. The hazard suit he'd been given to wear was very uncomfortable. Sweat glued the smooth, plastic fabric to his skin. Why couldn't people just listen and follow the instructions?

Q sneered at them. How dare they think that they could keep him, the once almighty Q, contained in his small, drab, quarters. "That simply won't do," he whined. "I demand to see Captain Picard!"

This was new. No one had demanded to speak with the captain yet. The officer to Q's right cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment. Captain Picard is currently also in his quarters, due to the quarantine that has been put in place. I'm sure you could comm him and discuss your concerns." The two officers had to attempt to hide their mirthful smiles at the thought of the captain dealing with Q over the comm link.

"If Picard is in his quarters, who's in charge of this floating tin can?"

The second officer spoke up. "I believe that Commander Riker is currently in control of the ship."

"We're doomed." Q groaned.

Growing tired of Q's antics, the officers took a few steps back and turned to leave. "The instructions should be available on all computers and devices. See that you follow them."

Q stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open for a moment or two, before turning stiffly on his heel to go into his quarters. How could this be happening? Was there truly some dangerous disease floating about? Q had yet to be sick during his human experience, but he was quite sure it was something he didn’t want to have to go through. Human bodies were already so disgusting. Always aching or oozing. Humans seemed to secrete some sort of ooze for every occasion. Was it truly necessary to be so disgusting? Q knew that it only became worse with illness. Runny noses, excess sweat. Q shivered with disgust. No, he would simply refuse to become sick. He went over to the table next to the couch and grabbed the padd that lay there with it’s darkened screen. Quickly pressing the button on the side, Q tapped the screen and pulled up all the information given on this new ‘plague’.


	4. Comm Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picard and Q have a chat over the comm link.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fun begins. I hope you all enjoy this and please excuse any mistakes as always!

It had been such a relaxing two days. Picard set down his copy of ‘The Complete Sherlock Holmes’. This was the third book he’d finished in this wonderful time of quarantine. As much as he hated to admit it, he was thoroughly enjoying being quarantined. It wasn’t often he took shore leave, even less often he enjoyed it. This was different. There was no guilt involved during this time over having left his post. Sure, he still had the odd report to approve, but overall he still had a lot of freetime. 

“Computer, what time is it?” Picard asked somberly, slowly coming back to reality as if climbing out of the yellowed pages of his story.

The computer answered back in its usual mechanical flute tone, proclaiming it late in the evening.

Stretching, Picard rose from the couch and wandered over to the replicator. “Tea, Earl-grey, hot.” The steaming cup of tea appeared, which he took and placed on the table a few feet away. Facing the replicator once more, Picard then ordered a sandwich with beef, cheese, and pickles. The scent wafted up from the replicator, multiplying the captain’s hunger tenfold.

Grabbing the plate, he walked over to the table where his tea lay in wait, but just as he was about to sit down, the computer sounded.

“Incoming vocal transmission.”

“What the devil-”

“Jean-luc? Jean-luc are you there?” Q’s voice sounded throughout Picard’s quarters.

Picard held in a groan. This was a new low. Q had never attempted to bother him over the comm system before. Could he not get a moment's peace!

“I’m here Q.” Picard sighed. “Do you need something?”

There was silence over the line for a while. “To be honest with you Jean-luc, I don’t know. I-I guess I just needed someone to talk to.”

Picard was slightly shocked at this. He didn’t call to complain? Just to talk?

“Q, I’m flattered but I really think this is more a job for Counselor Troi.”

“No! No, I just-I don’t need a counselor, I just need someone to talk with. I. . . Jean-luc I can’t stand this quarantine anymore. No one to talk to, nothing to do! Jean-luc I tell you the boredom is unbearable.” Q’s voice seemed to waiver near the end. Perhaps it was just a computer glitch.

Picard sat down and took a sip of tea. “I see. Q, I recommend you read a book or find something to pass the time. I can send a list of good books, movies, and songs that you can entertain yourself with for the time being. I, however, just sat down to eat. So I hope you won’t mind if I end our little chat.”

“Oh. I see. Ok.” Q’s voice sounded so small. So timid compared to his usual boisterous tone.

“Goodbye Q.”

“Goodbye.”

Picard picked up his sandwich and moved to take a bite- “Jean-luc?”

“Yes Q?” Picard made sure his annoyance was heard.

“Can I call you again? I mean, sometime later?”

Picard thought about it a moment before reaching his decision. “I suppose you could Q. Goodbye now.”

“Goodbye.”

Picard took a bite of his sandwich. What on earth was that about?


	5. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q receives Picard's list of entertainment and feels an emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are well! Also, this is you daily checkpoint. Have you eaten? Did you drink water? Is it time for you to sleep? If it is late at night and you have things going on I demand you sleep! My fic is not worth sleep deprivation! Please excuse any mistakes as always. Enjoy!

It had been a horrible two days. The boredom seared into Q’s mind, filling each and every crack with a painful numbness. How long would this agony last? Nothing to do, nowhere to go. His conversation with Jean-luc had been the highlight of his quarantine. 

Boredom in the continuum had always been a problem, but now that he was human, the universe was no longer at his fingertips. The world was now limited to this small starship and whatever planet it decided to orbit. He felt boxed in, like a mime. The walls invisible and the world in reach, but trapped all the same. Of course, a mime could get out of the box they placed themselves in whenever they wanted. Q had no such luxury. 

The screen on the padd lit up, showing that a message was sent to him. Turning on the padd, Q saw the list of entertainment that Picard had sent him. It was a long list, each item having a short summary attached. Movies, shows, books, all sitting there neatly arranged waiting there for him to make a selection.

Q’s heart fluttered in his chest as he quickly scrolled through the list. Picard had done this for him. He didn’t have to, but he did. Q’s mind seemed to tumble and fall around itself in a childish joy. Someone had taken the time to do something for him out of kindness, not out of necessity. Oh, it was a small thing of course, but still! Small quips of laughter and joy bubbled out of his throat. He cared! Very little, but he still cared! Jean-luc Picard cared enough about Q to make sure he wasn’t bored! Such a wonderful day this was becoming. Choosing a romance movie from Picard’s list of suggestions, Q settled down into his grey furniture and watched the movie with Picard still on his mind.


	6. Fanboy Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picard and Q talk about fandom stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S RIGHT THERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER BABEY!!!! Excuse any mistakes and enjoy!

It was about two days later when Q contacted Picard again. Q’s voice rang over the computer speakers. “Jean-luc? Are you busy?”

Picard sighed as he placed his book on the wooden end table beside him. “No, not particularly. Do you need something Q?”

There was a pause over the line before Q answered. “No. I was just wondering if we could talk.”

Picard gave a small smile. How domestic Q was becoming. “Alright, what would you like to talk about?”

Another small bout of silence as Q thought it over. “Anything I guess. What do you humans normally talk about?”

Picard had to withhold a chuckle. Q sounded so innocent, so helpless. “We usually talk about what’s going on in our lives. But seeing as neither of us have done much of anything, why don’t you tell me about whatever it is you entertained yourself with yesterday? Was my list of any use?”

“Yes! I watched the most wonderful musical, of course you’ve seen it, but it was called ‘Phantom of the Opera’. It was incredible Jean-luc! It’s probably one of the higher points of human culture!”

At this Picard did laugh. Of course Q would love Phantom of the Opera. The glamour, the sound, the drama! And Picard had a sneaking suspicion that Q was something of a romantic. “Tell me Q, are you on team Phantom or team Raoul?”

“Phantom! What on earth did Christine see in that little prat anyway?” Q shouted through the computer.

“Of course you would be on the side of the Phantom.” Picard replied.  
“You mean to say you’re not?” Q gasped.

“No, I’m not. Erik threatened her, and tricked her. Put her and those she cared about in danger several times. He was a murderer and not to be trusted!”

“Who’s Erik?” Picard wanted to smack himself for being so blind.

“Erik is the name of the Phantom. I can’t seem to remember, did I put the book on your list?”

“There’s a BOOK?” Q practically squealed. “Hang on a sec, let me check. . .” After a pause Q responded. “No you didn’t.”

“I’ll add it in a minute. Q, why on earth do you want Christine to end up with the Phantom?”

They spent the rest of the night discussing the musical, as well as some of the other movies Q had watched, and some of the books he’d read. Picard sat in his favorite chair, listening intently to Q with ease for perhaps the first time. Q sat upside down on his drab grey couch, moving his legs up in the air, and talking excitedly, feeling for the first time that someone truly listened to him.


	7. My Dearest Darling Dunderhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fandom BS and Picard slips up and makes things awkward. Feeling happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know me IRL please stop reading, I have to make an alternative chapter for you that's more suitable for people I know. Please. If you know me in. real. life. Don't read it. However, if you are a burning trashcan of feelings like myself, please read on! Excuse any mistakes as always!

“Q, are you there?” This time it was Picard who had contacted Q.

“Where else would I be?” Q yelled sarcastically.

“Knowing you, any number of places you aren’t supposed to be. Did you finish it yet?” Picard’s voice hinted at anticipation, although he would deny it if ever asked.

“I diddddd.” Q set his book down gracefully. Oh, if Picard could only see him. Elegantly draped on the blandest of furniture. A playful attitude stretched across his soft features. 

“And?”

Q smirked. “You’re right. I did change my mind.”

“So you agree then that Erik was awful and didn’t deserve Christine?” Q could almost imagine Picard’s eyes sparkling with the excitement of a moral breakthrough.

Time to destroy that sparkle. “No.” He answered.

“No?”

“I changed my mind because I think that the Daroga and Erik should have gotten together.” Q shifted his position to wrap himself more comfortably in the soft blanket that previously lay on the floor. 

“The Daroga and Erik? I suppose I could understand why you would want those two together. It is rather suspicious that he followed Erik across several countries just to ‘keep an eye on him’.”

“Exactly! Besides, the difference in moral code gives the relationship a little spice, don’t you think? Oh, the homoeroticism of an unloved inhuman creature and his friend/rival of good moral conscience!” Q swooned.

Picard’s mind had little warning bells going off in the back of his head. Why did that sound so familiar? It was probably nothing, it’s not as if those dynamics aren’t within most romantic entertainment media. “I suppose. I hardly think the relationship would work out though.”

“Why not?” Q pouted.

Picard could almost see the face Q made. His bottom lip being ever so slightly pushed out in his disappointment. Simpering eyes that sparkled like starlight within the void of space.  
“Because, the Daroga would probably tire of Erik’s misdeeds and become angry with him. Erik might become angry in turn and accidentally kill him.”

“He didn’t kill Christine when he became angry with her.” Q reminded.

“True, but he almost killed the Daroga. The only reason he didn’t was because Christine begged for their lives.”

“I still think that they should bone!”

Picard choked on air for a full 24 seconds. “Q!”

“What?” Q asked, bewildered as to why Picard sounded upset, “That’s what they say right? When you mean they should have sex?”

Sputtering, Picard said; “Yes, but that’s not exactly how. . . I mean. . . Q, you don’t just talk about sex!”

“Why not? That’s all you humans ever seem to talk about outside of your jobs. You can barely say anything without someone’s mind going straight to the gutter.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Q was right. “You’re right Q. I guess I just wasn’t expecting such language from you. I thought you were probably above such things.” Even though Q wasn’t there, Picard gazed at the floor as one does when trying to avoid eye contact.  
Q shrugged even though there was no one to see it. “Maybe I used to be, but the fact remains that I’m human now. So I’m trying to get into the vernacular, if that makes any sense.”

Picard laughed. “Trying to be like the cool kids and learn all the new slang?”

Q’s cheeks burned at the comparison. “It’s not like that at all and you know it!” It took all of Q’s strength not to stomp his foot on the ground like some petulant child.

Laughter seemed to burst endlessly from Picard’s chest. “Actually my dear, I think it’s exactly like that.”

They both froze. Did he just say that? He had, hadn’t he. Picard had called Q ‘dear’.

Picard cleared his throat. “Now, uh, when I said- I mean. . .I didn’t mean, um. . .”

Q let out a deep breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “No, no, I get it Jean-luc. Mistakes are made. A simple slip of the tongue is all I’m sure.” Of course it didn’t mean anything. Disappointment seeped into Q’s entire being. Why on earth would Picard call Q ‘dear’ for any reason other than it being an honest mistake. Not that it mattered to him. He was above such things. Q wrapped himself even tighter within his blankets. 

Picard nodded to his empty quarters. “Yes. Just a slip of the tongue. I’m sorry to cut things short Q, but I’m rather tired. I’ll, uh, talk to you later.” 

“Yeah.” Came the solemn reply.

The call ended and Picard plopped down into the nearest chair. What just happened? ‘My dear?’ Where had that come from? Thank heavens that Q had understood that it was just a mistake. Wasn’t it? Picard looked down at his hands to find they were shaking. Why was he so shaken up after such a small mistake? It was true that he was growing rather fond of Q, but that was only in a platonic sense. He could never have other such feelings for Q. Could he? ‘No.’ he firmly told himself. ‘It was a slip of the tongue from feeling so comfortable. Nothing more.’ And yet as he made his way to get ready for bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just uncovered part of a horrible truth.


	8. Soupy Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has do deal with unknown emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for awhile. I hope you are all doing well, and that you enjoy this chapter. As always, please forgive any mistakes.

Q felt. . .Well to be perfectly honest, Q didn’t know what he felt. The whole conversation with Picard had wrapped him in a cocoon of confusion. His heart soared on a glitter filled wind with the fact that the stoic captain had called him dear, but at the same time his head thundered in an uproar of doubt telling him that it was only a mistake, and that Picard held no true feelings for him. Not the type of feelings Q harboured for him at least.

Q sighed and laid back on the horrid grey couch. It wasn’t fair. Trapped with the object of his affections in the worst of situations. Picard seemed so close, yet just out of reach. Similar to the earth’s myth of Tantalus, it seemed that no matter how close Q would come to having Picard, the universe would just whisk him away. And now with this. . . miniature plague, it seemed that Q would never get to Picard. Never get to be close to him. Never get to hold him. Never. . .

Snapping himself back to reality before his thoughts ensnared him into an uncomfortable situation, Q sat up and rubbed his eyes free from the sand of lethargic thinking. His back gave an uncomfortable crick as he attempted to stand. Being human really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The aches and pains of existence were second only to the crushing loneliness of being a singular entity. Cut off from the normal hum of the continuum, Q feared the silence when his empty head would fill with unwanted thoughts of death and pain. If not for his conversations with Jean-luc, Q worried that he would’ve undone himself, either finding relief in death or insanity.

Stretching backwards, Q’s back made several audible pops, relieving the built up tension from his hours of improper posture on the couch. He really should eat something. Glancing at a small clock he had replicated, he saw that it was indeed time for supper. After hearing about Q’s horrid eating habits in a conversation about food, Picard had sent him a schedule of normal human eating times. As well as food normally served at each meal. Picard had also been kind enough to send an article explaining different foods and the nutritional values of each food group and portion sizes. It had only been a few days since Picard had sent him the nutritional information, but Q had already begun to feel better. He no longer felt nauseous for the majority of the day. His stomach rarely hurt, and he felt that he had more energy than before. It would appear that the earth saying “you are what you eat” had some truth to it. ‘If I am what I eat,’ Q thought, ‘then I suppose today I am wild rice soup.’ Ordering said soup from the replicator, Q watched as the twirl of sparkling particles manifested itself into a steaming bowl of soup. The smell wafted its way up to Q, causing Q’s mouth to water. His mind itched with a lost bit of information. Something about somebody’s dogs. Pavlov maybe? What did it matter anyway. Q grabbed the soup and immediately cursed himself. Of course the bowl was hot. Nursing his burnt finger, Q scowled at the bowl. Such inconveniences. Instinctively, Q put his finger into his mouth, finding that it did indeed ease the shooting pain. Why was it the human body felt such a compulsive need to be disgusting? 

Q waited a few moments before hesitantly grabbing the bowl again, this time with better results. As he placed the white ceramic bowl on the table, a small dribble of soup fell onto the glass table. Q rolled his eyes before sitting down to eat his meal. Taking a tentative sip, Q quickly pulled a face of dislike. The taste itself wasn’t awful, it was the texture. It was almost slimy in a way, thick but also smooth with a chalky whisper. No, this simply wouldn’t do. 

As Q brought the bowl back to the replicator a feeling not too dissimilar to that of a small electric current rang through Q’s head and swam its way down to his chest. What on earth was this feeling? His arms and face slightly heated and he found he was rather uncomfortable with himself. As if he had done something wrong. Guilt! That’s what was wrong! Q mentally fumbled a bit as he tried to figure out what would have caused him to feel guilty of all things. He had done nothing wrong. Pondering for another moment or two, Q’s eyes drifted once more to the creamy soup sitting near the replicator and was overwhelmed with the next pang of guilt that overtook him. He felt guilty over soup? Why? It wasn’t as though the soup was good. After another moment of thought Q picked up the now slightly cooler soup and brought it back to the table. Ridiculous. Such an emotion caused because he didn’t finish a bowl of soup. It wouldn’t have been wasted if he’d brought it back to the replicator and ordered something else, so why did he feel so bad over it. Slurping down a disgusting spoonful of lukewarm soup, Q wondered if this was a normal human emotion. He knew that humans felt the twist of guilt rather often, but he’d never seen it occur over something as small as an unfinished bowl of soup! When he was a Q he’d never felt guilty over his actions. Almost. There were a few regrets sprinkled here and there, but overall Q had never reflected on the wake of chaos he left behind and felt a sense of guilt or remorse over it. So why now over such a trifle thing? Perhaps his little human shell was broken in some way. A cold flash smacked Q in the face like a dead fish. If something was wrong he couldn’t see Dr. Crusher. He couldn’t see anyone! 

Q’s mind drifted to Picard’s words before this whole illness fiasco had started. Ask someone. Should he ask Picard? He was the only one willing to talk to him. Bringing another spoonful to his lips with shaky hands Q decided against it. Why bother Picard over something like this. Besides, it wasn’t physical, it was emotional so Dr. Redhead couldn’t help anyway. And why go crying to Counselor Troi over something so small? No. Everything was fine. Gagging on the last swallow of the now cold soup, Q carried the dish to the replicator where it disappeared in a swirl of light.

Everything was going to be fine.


	9. Wandering Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picard is stressed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another chapter y'all! Once again, please ignore any mistakes.

Everything was not fine. Picard paced back and forth hurriedly in his cabin. Even with the cautionary actions being taken, cases were still spreading across the Enterprise like wildfire. There was a whole team of engineers out sick and lord only knows who they passed it along to. Picard read report after report hoping to find some shred of good news, but all he found were reports of new symptoms and rising numbers. The world seemed to be crashing down on him. How could this have happened? A virus so similar to that of the human flu was running rampant through HIS ship, and he was trapped in his quarters doing nothing but reading reports and wallowing in stress and confusion. 

He needed someone to talk to. It wasn’t often the reserved captain felt the need to vent, but it seemed after talking to Q for so long he found that it was rather nice to be able to open up every once in a while. But he couldn’t. Not after their last conversation. Picard still felt awkward about his small slip up. Every time his overtaxed brain brought up the little phrase in the stillness of night Picard could feel his face heat up as embarrassment washed through him. How stupid it all was. Q had understood that it was simply a mistake, so why couldn’t he just move on and continue as if nothing had happened? Because he just couldn’t, that’s why. 

He could always talk to the Counselor of course. But even that was out of the question. They would talk and eventually that would lead to him revealing his conversations with Q and his accidental affectionate exchange, which would of course wind up with them having to do a deeper search of his emotions trying to figure out just what it all meant to him, and Picard wasn’t quite sure he was ready for that just yet. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. 

Sitting down with a sigh, Picard’s mind flickered back to Q. He was a nuisance, albeit an intelligent one with a knack for conversations, so why was it so hard to not talk to Q? Boredom was a likely option, and yet he knew it not to be the answer. Boredom had never been a reason to strike up a conversation with anyone, much less Q. 

And yet here he was wishing Q would call and all of these horrendous awkward emotions would slip away.


End file.
